A predator stalks a cold northern Minnesotan town. There is talk of wolves walking on two legs and attacking people in the deep woods. Lauren Westlake, resourceful and determined F.B.I Agent, has found a connection between the strange murders in the north and a case file almost a hundred years old. Traveling to the cold north, she begins an investigation that spirals deep into the darkness of mythology and nightmares. Filled with creatures of the night and an ancient romance, the revelation of who hunts beneath the moon is more grisly than anyone could have imagined.

FBI Agent Lauren Westlake has a knack for investigating cold cases that seem to pop up again spontaneously in different parts of the U.S. Her new case leads her to a cold northern Minnesotan town, where a string of murders occurred. As the investigation gets deeper, everything starts to seem... supernatural.

I won't consider this book as a complete paranormal book. It seemed more plain fiction with a touch of paranormal, horror and suspense. To be honest, the book didn't seem so into suspense, it was more gorey than anything else. Definitely not a book for the faint-hearted.

The moment I hit the second chapter, I was lost. The way the book was narrated was very confusing, I even thought one of the main characters died because of the lack of distinction when introducing a new narration into the chapter. It was frustrating when I had to read back and try to get what was going on.

The writing style was different from what I'm used to. I didn't like it much. But the plot was stern and so were the side characters. The primary characters were easy to connect to but a long the way, I began to 'disconnect' from them. They weren't constructed well, and I just didn't care much for them along the way. Their dialogue didn't seem right for the type of the book but for some reason the secondary characters was well portrayed compared to the primary characters.

Bitten is an interesting indie book based on werewolves. Though I didn't like some bits of the book, I did enjoy the light romance, and the secondary characters. Due to its gorey content, I don't recommend this to the faint hearted, but maybe to the adventurous reader.

Thank you Dan for the signed copy! I appreciate it! Keep writing. :D

RATING: 2.5/5 stars (I don't have a rating star for 2.5, need to make one :D)

Thursday, May 24, 2012

TOP TEN PARANORMAL NOVELS

by Susan Roebuck

Thank you for letting me reveal my favorite paranormal (and horror – because it’s kind of a similar genre) novels. So here goes (in no particular order, except for #1):

1. I only recently discovered Karin Marie Moning’s Fever Series. And it’s number 1 of my list because I devoured these books with a greed that had me looking round for more. MacKayla Lane is the ideal feisty heroine who is tested over and over (too much “over” sometimes) until she comes out of the end of the series completely changed from the little rainbow girl she started out to be. I’ve just finished Shadowfever so I feel like I’ve come to the satisfactory end of a tasty, full-blown dinner. Shadowfever ties up all the loose ends so you know who everyone is. My my only criticism about the final book is, without giving any spoilers away, that MacKayla does spend too much time in introspection, questioning her actions, questioning her thoughts and desires.

2. I’ve also just found (lucky me) Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. I’ve read Storm Front and just recently Fool Moon and I think I’m a little in love with Harry Dresden who, in my mind, looks nothing like the hunky figure on the paperback version of Fool Moon. Much to my delight this hero is deeply flawed. He’s feckless and clumsy but he bravely undergoes such hardship it’s hard not to admire him.

3. Anne Rice’s Vampire Lestat series. I read the books before I saw Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt strut their stuff. Actually I preferred Antonio Banderas as Armand – he made a great vampire.

4. A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness is rather a lengthy novel but it features vampires (pretty scary ones too), witches and daemons who are all against each other. So the sparks fly when a witch and vampire hook up. This is part of a series and I’m anxious for the sequel when there’s going to be all-out war between vampires, witches and daemons. And while all this is going on, humans wander about oblivious (don’t look over your shoulder – and check out the pale guy in the corner).

5. His Dark Materials Trilogy by Phillip Pullman. It is supposed to be for children, but the subtle religious undertones are for adult reading. I’m fond of daemons and wouldn’t mind one of my own (it would be an otter).

6. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. Leave the light on for this horror story in which figures leap out of shadows and go Boo! They’ll scare the wits out of you. They did me.

7. Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. In Wales, a teenager comes across an orphanage whose occupants are definitely not what they seem. One child speaks to the dead, another has two faces, another levitates. And real photographs from days gone by cleverly illustrate the odd skills. This was a strange read – which is probably why I enjoyed it. I like fiction that’s out of the ordinary.

8. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. I haven’t actually read this one. I’m waiting, biting my nails, for Amazon to bring its price down. Some of the reviews say that the book is stuff that dreams are made of - just my type of book.

9. Diavolino by Steve Emmett. This is an undiscovered little gem which dodges between sixteenth century and modern day Italy with a horrifying climax. Emmett has been likened to a mix of Stephen King and Dan Browne.

10. The Man Who Rained by Ali Shaw. I’m reading this one at the moment. Elsa moves from New York to a place that is set in the UK somewhere – probably Wales because there are mountains. She falls in love with a guy who turns out to be half man and half weather (he turns into a thunder cloud occasionally and spits lightning). It’s a brilliant concept, written in such a way that I can relate to it – there really might be people like this living amongst us.

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UB Comments: So many new and classic paranormal reads. I wish I've read them all. Especially Haunting house on the hill. Though, Susan's comment on the Fever series makes me want to continue to devour the series now. :D Thanks for stopping by Susan!

Susan Roebuck

Release Date: April 18, 2012

Genre: Paranormal

Publisher: Etopia Press

An unsung hero's destiny--Slater's house of horrors.

Fire-fighter Jude Elliott loses part of his leg trying to rescue a family held hostage during a terrorist attack. He journeys to mysterious Hewhey Hall, where it is told there are wondrous, magical cures. Little does Jude know that his destination is Slater The Prince of Envy's lair where demons reside and courageous souls are tormented... Can Jude escape Slater's house of horrors, or

But when the mortal Rachael’s watching over is hurting, how can she stay hidden in the shadows?

Guardian angel Rachael becomes trapped with the mortal she’s been assigned to watch over. Unable to watch him suffer, she decides the only way to free him of his inner demons is to break the rules about becoming involved, revealing her true identity, and applying divine intervention. But what choice does she have? Without her help, his soul will be trapped forever. Then a stranger appears, giving Rachael reason to wonder if his is the only soul in need of saving...”

D L (Deborah Louise) Richardson is an author of Young Adult fiction. She has run a secondhand clothing store and was bass player/lead vocalist in a band she helped form. Today she is a writer. The Bird With The Broken Wing is her debut novel. She lives in Australia on the NSW South Coast with her husband and dog. When she’s not writing or reading she can be found practicing her piano, playing the guitar or walking the dog.

Vee knows this because she was there. Everyone believes Vee is narcoleptic, but she doesn’t actually fall asleep during these episodes: When she passes out, she slides into somebody else’s mind and experiences the world through that person’s eyes. She’s slid into her sister as she cheated on a math test, into a teacher sneaking a drink before class. She learned the worst about a supposed “friend” when she slid into her during a school dance. But nothing could have prepared Vee for what happens one October night when she slides into the mind of someone holding a bloody knife, standing over Sophie’s slashed body.

Vee desperately wishes she could share her secret, but who would believe her? It sounds so crazy that she can’t bring herself to tell her best friend, Rollins, let alone the police. Even if she could confide in Rollins, he has been acting off lately, more distant, especially now that she’s been spending more time with Zane.

Enmeshed in a terrifying web of secrets, lies, and danger and with no one to turn to, Vee must find a way to unmask the killer before he or she strikes again.

Yet again, the reading world is graced with another contemporary/paranormal mix. I'm not keen on the mixture but what can I say. It's different. Slide is not your normal contemporary and paranormal mix. It harnesses a uniqueness of its own. And that is the ability to slide into someone when one falls asleep. Now, in this case, Sylvia does all the Sliding. She's an edgy type of girl with punkish pink hair and a personality that's average for a normal teenage girl only difference is that she can slide and she hates it. She tries to avoid it at all costs.

In my opinion, Sylvia's the only thing that keeps her family grounded. After her mothers death, her dad became a workaholic and her little sister is on a tightrope trying to conform into the popular crowd in high-school. While Sylvia stays out the popular crowd and sticks with the two-person crowd her and best friend, Rollins. Rollins is an interesting character, nothing new but interesting.

As the story goes along and Sylvia, tries to unravel the mystery of her sisters best friends suicide after a series of bullying and the truth that it wasn't a suicide but a murder. This knowledge she obtained by accidentally sliding into the murderer, as the murderer writes the victims suicide note.

This has her on her toes in fear that her sister might be next. Her fight to find answers was slow and kind of dragging. But when another "suicide" comes in. The story begins to pick-up pace and everything started happening too fast. Almost like the author rushed it. Either way, the story was realistic. I don't think I've ever read a young adult contemporary novel that has so much gore and death in it.

The book was unexpectedly good. It thrills you with mystery and death and definitely keeps you entertained with the corny but sweet romance. Along with the touching family bonding and support. Not much of an unputdownable book but Slide is most certainly a good book with a good plot that will keep you entertained enough to finish the book all the way through.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Why I Became A Writer

by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

August 24, 2011

Truthfully, what started me off as an author was simply this: As a child, eight or nine (same time I began drawing pencil pictures and years before I dreamt of being a singer with my younger brother Jim), I began reading library books, science fiction, historical romances and scary books. I had six brothers and sisters and though I had a loving mother and father, a loving family, there was very little money. I can’t say we were poverty poor, but we were poor at times. Sometimes our meals were scarce and we rarely had extra money for toys or outside entertainment. I think in my whole young childhood my father only took us out to eat once. Try paying for seven kids and two adults. So we learned to entertain ourselves. Played outside. Climbed trees and hid in deep dirt gullies. Sang, howled really, outside at night on the swing set.

I loved to read. The library books were free and plentiful. I’d sit on my bed, especially during the long summer days and evenings (after chores, of course) and read one amazing book after another. If I was lucky, with a chocolate snack or cherry Kool-Aid nearby. Those books, those words on the page, took me to other places, times and worlds. It was magical. I got lost in people-on-a-spaceship-going–to-some-faraway-planet books. There was this horse book when I was a kid that knocked me out, made me cry, and laugh with joy at the end it was so real and so full of pathos because I loved horses so much. It was called Smoky. Sigh. I never forgot how those wonderful books made me feel…so free. So adventurous. So rich. Like I could be or do anything someday. And when I grew up I wanted to create that magic for others. So…that’s why I began writing. And when I get depressed over my writing at times, I remember that.

I remember vividly one day at school (must have been 10 or so) when a box of Weekly Reader books were delivered and we got to pick one to read. The smell of those new books in that box as I looked at them, the excitement and awe of the other kids and the reverence for those authors, and I thought: Wouldn’t it be something if someday a box of these books were mine…written by me? Oh, to be an author. People respect an author. It was the beginning.

And why do I keep writing after 39 years? Because I can’t not write. I can’t stop. The stories take over my heart and mind and demand to come out. Like birthing a baby (I have one real son and two grandchildren). You carry them for a short or long time span and then once they’re born (published) they go on to be their own individual entities that sometimes continue to amuse and amaze you. Or disappoint you. Whatever.

Being a published author isn’t like anything you would imagine. There’s excitement, the passion and feeling of being right with the world, as the story is being created and the words tumble out into the computer; there’s the exhaustion of writing hours and hours, the doubt that your words will mean anything to anyone and why am I doing this? that creeps in but that you have to chase away; there’s the pride in seeing the finished book, either e-book or print, and finally there’s the feeling of unexplainable happiness when someone says they read and liked/loved it. I love to hear: I couldn’t put it down. The characters were so real. I got carried away with it. Didn’t want to leave the world you’d created. Wow. That makes the sometimes low pay and grueling hard work worthwhile. Because writing is hard work. The creating and promoting anyway. Hour and hour, day after day, year after year. It’s your life you’re using up. Precious time. You have to truly love it to give all that up…to strangers.

Writers live so much of their life in their make believe worlds they get lonely for the real world, real breathing people and adventures. I know I do. But the writing won’t leave me alone until I write down the words, tell the tale. The easiest way I can put it is when I’m writing or dealing with my writing I feel like I’m doing what I was born to do.

I believe a writer is born to write – like an artist is born to paint and draw; a musician to write or play music. As an artist myself I know I’m not really happy, or fulfilled feeling, unless I’m writing, drawing or singing. Creating. Though the singing and the artwork have gone more by the wayside as I’ve become older…writing mostly takes all my free time now. Writing make me happy. Grin. Except the rare times someone hates one of my books…and that happens, too. I’ve finally learned that reading and loving a book or short story is subjective. Some people love my stories, get them, and others…don’t. And that’s okay. We’re all different people. That’s a lesson a writer must learn. One person’s criticism is not a blanket criticism of all your work or even that one work, it’s just one person’s opinion.

People ask me if I still enjoy my writing. Sure, I love it. It’s like breathing, eating, dreaming. A part of me. Second nature. It took me 39 years, 14 published novels and 7 short stories to say I’m a writer and really feel like I wasn’t being a pretentious so-and-so or outright lying. Telling stories is what makes me feel…complete. Happy. Hey, look at me I’m a storyteller! Ha, ha, now I just have to figure out a way to make it more profitable. Now that’s a whole other story. Working on that. As one successful writer said to me: Just get the books out there…nothing else matters. (Presumably good books, I’d add.) The rest will come. Gosh, I sure hope he’s right. Cause I’m been working soooo hard.

"Amanda Givens is careful how she uses her powers. She doesn't want the people of Canaan, Connecticut to know they have a witch among them . . . even a good white witch. For years, she's lived quietly in a remote cabin with Amadeus, her quirky feline familiar. At first with her husband, Jake, the love of her life, until a car accident; but now alone after his death. But when she's wrongly blamed for a rash of ritualistic murders committed by a satanic cult, she knows she can no longer hide. She's the one the cult's after and she is the only one who can stop them and prove her innocence.

As punishment for fighting and destroying the cult, she's drawn back in time by the ghost of the dark witch, Rachel Coxe, who was drowned for practicing black magic in the 17th century.

Now, as Amanda tries to rehabilitate Rachel's reputation in an effort to save lives, as well as her own, and falls in love all over again with Joshua, her reincarnated dead husband from the future, she has to rely on a sister's love and magical knowledge, and a powerful sect of witches named the Guardians to help her get home safely."

Now, with her heart breaking, her eyes shut, her hands waving languidly over the fire, she chanted the nefarious words that would bring her husband back from the dead.

Mandy...no, Mandy...

Something crashed against the door, as if something or someone were throwing themselves against it. Wood splintered, but the door held. Amadeus, who had powers of his own, was fighting mad now. It was his responsibility to protect her, protect her from herself, if need be. She heard him growling at her through the door.

Open up, Mandy. Open the damn door!

“No. I told you, Amadeus, either help me or go away.”

The cat grumbled beyond the door, hissed and spat as loud as any big cat, and the battering resumed.

Amanda’s eyes flew open, widened as the apparition began to take form inside the pentagram—the outline of a man, tall, his arms thrown over his face as if in defense.

“Jake?” She moaned, staring at the thing.

It lowered its hands and a ghoulish, misty face peered out at her, a face so full of torment and fear, Amanda fell back in shock.

“Don’t do this, Mandy, I beg you! Remember me as I was. I don’t belong there anymore.” She heard the plaintive whisper, an echo on the still air. Its hands reached out to her. “Let me go. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

She couldn’t stop. The enchantment wasn’t complete. It would be better when it was. He was between two worlds now and he would be frightened. Half-formed. Between two worlds.

If she wasn’t careful, those unearthly denizens—shade demons, she called them—that haunted that dead world could escape into hers. So dangerous. What the hell was she doing opening the forbidden portals like this?

What happened if she was a moment off, a word wrong and the demons came through? If she unleashed them? A disaster.

Amanda steeled herself, wiped the fresh tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Damn it, I want you back, Jake. I’ll have you back,” she swore.

She took up where she’d left off, knowing if she stopped at this point of the spell, it could ruin everything. Everything.

The door groaned behind her under its assault (damn but that cat was strong), the wind screamed outside the windows. The candles placed around the pentagram fluttered in a strange breeze in the shadowy room.

Amanda’s heart froze. She stopped in the middle of the spell, her eyes going wide with fear, her hands half-raised before her, and her head thrown back as the flames from the fire glowed more brightly across her tense face.

What was that word? Suureerustus? Summertus? Or...

She stared at the blurry figure trying to form in the circle. It was yelling at her now...something...something...she couldn’t make out the words.

It was no longer alone.

Things writhed around its melting feet, flew about its head. Terrible things. Things from the dead world. Unholy things. Gaping mouths with sharp bloodied teeth, glittering fiendish eyes in deformed, hideous bodies. Some almost human, some insect like. Others indescribable. Some growing before her eyes to be taller than she was.

Monsters. Coming through the barrier, crossing the lines of the pentagram, into her world.
Amanda grabbed the nearest thing with which to fight them off, a broom, and started swinging at them.

She was so busy hitting and spewing out new spells to keep the shade demons from coming through that she never heard the door burst open; never felt the cool storm wind enter the cabin until something determined and furry flew by her face toward the pentagram, hissing all the way.

Then Amadeus was helping her herd the malignant spirits back from where they’d come. All claws, teeth, and unearthly glowing eyes. He snarled the word Sutterus at her in passing and Amanda quickly supplied it in the spell where it belonged.

The demons began to slowly dissolve in shrieks of rage.

Don’t send us away! Don’t send us back there! Let us out. Out!

Jake’s figure returned. A shadow with hanging head. Just one or two sentences and the incantation would be complete. Jake would be there, solid, before her.

Amanda hesitated. The thing in the circle looked so pitiful. So unnatural.

Before she could finish, soft, but strong paws clamped tightly around her neck and wouldn’t let go. Something howled like a banshee in her ear, as sharp teeth angrily nipped it. She couldn’t breathe.

“Amadeus! Get off!” She screamed, tumbling to the floor with the huge cat on top of her, still holding on like a leech, its yowling and screeching enough to wake the dead—instead, it woke her.

By the time she’d yanked the cat off, throwing him roughly against the opposite wall so that he yelped in pain, and she’d crawled back to the pentagram, Jake was gone. The enchantment broken.

Amanda gazed at the empty pentagram for a long time, suddenly horrified, disgusted at what she had almost done.

She’d almost crossed the line. Almost. Thank God for Amadeus.

She curled up on the floor next to the fire and sobbed, the last of her anguish finally releasing itself. The cat limped over to her and licked the tears from her face. He didn’t seem to be angry with her any longer. Just worried.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Amadeus, so sorry.” She pulled him into her arms, and hugged him like a baby until he began to purr. “Forgive me?”

Of course.

“Thank you for that, Amadeus. You saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life.”

He was smart enough not to answer that one. She snuggled him, rocking on the floor.

Since childhood I’ve always been an artist and worked as a graphic designer in the corporate world and for newspapers for twenty-three years before I quit to write full time. I began writing novels at 21, over forty years ago now, and have had fourteen (nine romantic horror, one historical romance, one romantic suspense, one romantic time travel and two murder mysteries) previous novels and eight short stories published from Zebra Books, Leisure Books, Avalon Books, The Wild Rose Press, Damnation Books and Eternal Press.

I’ve been married to Russell for thirty-three years; have a son, James, and two grandchildren, Joshua and Caitlyn, and I live in a small quaint town in Illinois called Columbia, which is right across the JB Bridge from St. Louis, Mo. We have two quirky cats, ghost cat Sasha and live cat Cleo, and the four of us live happily in an old house in the heart of town. Though I’ve been an artist, and a folk singer in my youth with my brother Jim, writing has always been my greatest passion, my butterfly stage, and I’ll probably write stories until the day I die.

A compelling debut novel in which a teen girl must figure out who's causing a rash of murders in her small town--and what's causing her to turn into a monster. Ideal for fans of "Heroes" and "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

Once again, I dove into a book without knowing its basic contents and I was thoroughly entertained! The book was a good Young Adult debut from Jeff Sampson.

The book was written in Emily Webb's perspective. I didn't like how it was narrated when Nighttime Emily came into the story. Emily Webb is considered 'invisible' in her High School. She wears glasses and loves hiding her perfect body under a giant hoodie. She's average smart but sometimes lack common sense which was annoying especially coming from a girl like her.

The main characters were weak and the secondary characters even weaker. Nobody particularly stood out and there wasn't much distinction between them besides the fact that Emily was the main character.

The plot was present but it was very vague in the beginning especially when it came to what type of paranormal book this was. Lets just say its a mix of everything together with a contemporary twist.

Overall, Vesper was a good read and it definitely kept me entertained but there wasn't much of a bang. The strong element that makes you want to read the next book wasn't there. There was just that passive peak that just shows you a quarter of what the whole series is all about. Lets just say its just the beginning after reading 288 pages waiting for something to happen. Hopefully, the next book will be better.

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